


83. ruined youth

by piggy09



Series: The Sestre Daily Drabble Project [43]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 05:54:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7745743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piggy09/pseuds/piggy09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They find Helena when she's thirteen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	83. ruined youth

**Author's Note:**

> [warning: self-harm scars]

Sarah’s twin has been living with them for a week, now, and she hasn’t said a word. Sarah comes home from middle school and the girl with her face is sitting at the kitchen table, watching her with wide eyes. She keeps her mouth sealed tight shut. She keeps fidgeting with the knife she brought with her, the one with the wooden fish on the handle. When S tried to take it away from her she screamed. When S tried to touch her she—

Sarah sits down at the kitchen table across from her. “When are you gonna _talk_ ,” she says. “What’s your _name_.”

The girl looks on the table, opens her mouth, and says—

“Is that _Russian?_ ” Sarah says. “You’re _Russian?_ You can’t even understand what I’m bloody sayin’, can you.” She runs her hands through her hair.

“Helena,” says the girl. She presses her lips tight together. In the hand that is not holding the knife, she reaches across the table and presses her hand to the space across from Sarah’s heart. “Sarah.”

“Don’t touch me,” Sarah says, slapping her hand off. Sarah’s—Helena curls into a smaller ball in her chair. Her feet are bare, still, she won’t take any of the socks S gave her. The tank top she’s wearing has slipped, so you can see the angry red patch of scars on her shoulder. She looks really small. Sarah hates her. She has never ever wanted to be small.

“Sorry,” says Helena quietly. Pauses. “Your heart.” And she presses her hand to her own chest, tilts her head at Sarah questioningly. Sarah blinks back at her. Helena sighs through her nose, says: “Can I…” and squats on the chair so she can hover her hand over Sarah’s wrist. Sarah huffs out a breath through her nose and Helena takes it as the permission that it – somehow – is. Her hand is very gentle on Sarah’s wrist; she lifts it and presses Sarah’s hand to the right side of her chest.

There’s a heartbeat. Sarah sucks in a breath, yanks her hand free.

“What’s wrong with you,” she says, voice shaky. “You’re messed up inside. What’s _wrong_.”

Helena shakes her head, frantically. She opens her mouth, closes it, opens it, says “ _dzerkalo_ ,” closes it again. She stares angrily at the table for a second, and then tries “Glass.”

“Glass?” Sarah echoes, unimpressed. Helena looks up. She holds out one hand, palm splayed, towards Sarah. Out of some instinct Sarah doesn’t know she holds up her own hand to meet it. A year or two ago Felix went through some hippie bullshit phase where he wanted to look at her lifeline all the time. She can’t help wondering if Helena’s lifeline is the same as hers, if they’re supposed to live the same life.

“Glass,” Helena says again.

“Oh,” Sarah says. “You mean mirror.”

Helena visibly relaxes, tries a shaky smile. “Yes. We are – mirror.”

Sarah swallows, looks away towards the fridge. All of Felix’s drawings. Staring really hard at one particularly ugly one in the middle, she lets her fingers lace with Helena’s. Helena lets out a shaky sigh as she does, like it’s everything she’s ever wanted.

And then they’re holding hands. The heel of Sarah’s hand drops to the tabletop’s and Helena’s follows it, unthinking, and – that probably means something, but like hell does Sarah want to think about what. She is thirteen years old. She never asked for _this_.

“You want a bowl of cereal or somethin’,” she mutters. Pauses. “Shite. Uh.” She turns back, leans closer to Helena, says in an exaggerated slow loud voice: “Food.”

Helena snorts. “Yes,” she says. “I know. Food.” Her face abruptly grows more solemn. “Is there – more? Um. Not more.” She scrunches up her face. “Is there… _enough_.”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Sarah says. “There’s like, three boxes.”

Helena’s lips fold in again, like Sarah has said something wrong. She nods to herself decisively. “Okay,” she whispers. “Cereal. Please. Thank you.”

“Okay,” Sarah says. She’s going to stand up. She’s going to stand up and pour her twin sister a bowl of cereal, and pour herself a bowl of cereal, and then they’re going to eat cereal. She will. She’s going to.

But she’s going to sit here for just another minute, though. Just to hold Helena’s hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please kudos + comment if you enjoyed! :)


End file.
